


The Door That Has No Exit

by thatemokidauthor



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, M/M, Other, Time Loop, cecilos - Freeform, cryptic, i don’t know what to type here, the house that doesn’t exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24749269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatemokidauthor/pseuds/thatemokidauthor
Summary: Cecil knew it was going to be a terrible, no good, very bad day when he woke up in The House That Doesn’t Exist. On a normal kind of good, not that bad day he may not have been worried. It wouldn’t have been the first time he woke up in a place he couldn’t remember going to sleep in.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	The Door That Has No Exit

Cecil knew it was going to be a terrible, no good, very bad day when he woke up in The House That Doesn’t Exist. The house itself was not uncomfortable; for a place that never existed it happened to be quite comfortable. On a normal kind of good, not that bad day he may not have been worried. It wouldn’t have been the first time he woke up in a place he couldn’t remember going to sleep in.

No, what made him aware of that day’s no good very bad happenings were the gaps in his memory. There were very few things that he couldn’t recall, by nature of his career. Journalists, by nature, had to have amazing memories.

After a moment of contemplation, Cecil swung his feet out from under the quilted sheet he had been lying under and set them on the hardwood floor beneath him.

Guided, calculated steps moved Cecil through the house. He pressed his hands against glass windows and stared at the ground below, somehow covered in snow. When he went to bed that night he very much remembered it being Summer, or early fall at the latest. 

He tugged on window latches and tugged at door knobs. Nothing leading to outside would budge. A chill ran down his spine. 

Cecil wandered around for what seemed like hours, passing through rooms that had previously not existed (although, he supposed, it made perfect sense for The House That Doesn’t Exist. He could at least praise the architects for staying with a theme.)

He logged each exit the doors led to, if any exit at all, until he opened to be what had previously been the downstairs bathroom, only to find himself right back in the dining room. This time, a figure was sitting at one end.

It had no face, and no recognizable features. Its vaguely humanoid body was made completely of shadow that seemed to be fading in and out. It turned its head, and cocked it to one side, almost like it was curious. 

“Mr. Palmer,” the shadow said, static pulling at the corner of its voice. “You’ve arrived. Please sit, we don’t have much time together.” 

Cecil took a seat across from the being. “You know who I am.” He didn’t ask.

“Yes, we’ve been here before. Many, many times, Mr. Palmer.” The shadow put its arms on the table and leaned forward. “And I do believe we will be doing this again. Over, and over, until he gets bored of you.”

“I’ve never been here before. This house doesn’t exist- that’s why it’s The House That Doesn’t Exist. Names are supposed to say a lot about a thing,” Cecil said, trying to find the eyes of the eyeless creature in front of him.

The shadow tilted its head to each side and sighed. “You are always so difficult when we first meet,” it groaned. “Listen to me well, Mr. Palmer, and try not to forget. Hold onto this with everything you have.”

Cecil nodded.

“You first arrived here by accident, Mr. Palmer. You were following a story about this house, The House That Doesn’t Exist. You had run into problem after problem trying to locate this place. You dropped your phone in The River That Has No Water. You were cut by the Roses That Have No Thorns. You got lost in The Forest That Holds No Trees and yet, when you found yourself here. You had done everything in your power not to give up. Tired as you were you journeyed inside this house. By doing so, you left your plane of existence and entered his.” The shadow paused. Whether it was by accident or for dramatic effect Cecil couldn’t say. “He saw you, Mr. Palmer, and knew you would be an interesting plaything. You were a curious mind and were dedicated to everything that you put your mind to. He loved that. So he made you his.”

“Wait, wait,” Cecil interrupted, waving his hands in the air. “Who is this he? What do you mean I left my plane of existence? What about my family? My niece, my sister, my cat, my Perfect Carlos? What about-”

The sound of footsteps drawing ever nearer cut Cecil off. He could quite place where they were coming from- it sounded like they were coming from everywhere.

“We don’t have time,” the shadow said, pushing itself out its chair. “Go Mr. Palmer, now. Try to remember what I said.”

“But what about-”

“Go, Cecil. Now.”

The calm footsteps got faster, and transformed into hard stomping that cracked the ceiling. 

Cecil lept to his feet, forcing his chair to the ground. He turned around and saw the door behind him. He ripped the door open and sprinted through, and sank into darkness as the door collided behind him. 

—————

Cecil knew it was going to be a terrible, no good, very bad day when he woke up in The House That Doesn’t Exist. The house itself was not uncomfortable; for a place that never existed it happened to be quite comfortable. On a normal kind of good, not that bad day he may not have been worried. It wouldn’t have been the first time he woke up in a place he couldn’t remember going to sleep in. 

No, what made him aware of that day’s no good very bad happenings were the gaps in his memory.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a school project and figured it was good enough to put here.


End file.
